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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447110">Time Travel</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel'>RinAngel</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>JBJ (Band), WEi (Korea Band), X1 (Korea Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Break Up, Cheating, Flashbacks, I wrote this fast YOLO, M/M, Needlessly Dramatic, Past Relationship(s), Reminiscing, Sad, Sad Ending, Unhealthy Relationships</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:02:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28447110</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinAngel/pseuds/RinAngel</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I hate the way that we left things all those years ago, hyung. I’ll understand if you just ignore this, but I would feel so much better if we could see each other. Seokhwa feels the same way. I’d love to have a couple drinks together, just the three of us, if you’re willing."</i>
</p><p>It’s not the memories themselves that cause him pain, it’s the acknowledgement of what stands between twenty-year-old Donghan and twenty-nine-year-old Donghan. What turned him from a bright light in a limitless world to a cog in a machine, just going through the motions? One heartbreak shouldn’t just— <i>shatter</i> a person, right?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kang Seokhwa/Kim Donghan, Kang Seokhwa/Kim Yohan, Kim Donghan/Kim Yohan, Kim Donghan/Yoo Yongha</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Time Travel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Donghan doesn’t think back fondly on college, though in hindsight, it had been himself at his brightest. He hadn’t been very popular, but he’d been well-liked by his professors, and he liked to think that he had all the friends that he needed. He’d had a nice apartment, small but tidy, a core group of friends who loved him, a boyfriend that he would have given the moon and the stars in the sky for, if he’d asked.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s not the memories themselves that cause him pain, it’s the acknowledgement of what stands between twenty-year-old Donghan and twenty-nine-year-old Donghan. What turned him from a bright light in a limitless world to a cog in a machine, just going through the motions? One heartbreak shouldn’t just— </span>
  <em>
    <span>shatter</span>
  </em>
  <span> a person, right?</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kim Yohan: Heyy stranger! Seokhwa and I will be back in Seoul on Friday, and of course Haseul will be with us! We want to see all of our friends together for a reunion dinner this weekend, but if you’re too busy then we’d love to see you on your own whenever you’re free! ^^</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s been a long time since he’s seen Yohan’s name, and reading it makes Donghan’s stomach involuntarily turn. He checks up on him, from time to time— tracks down his Facebook, which is apparently as essential to life in America as a social security number. Yohan takes lots of pictures, and his profile is full of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Born in Seoul, Lives in Los Angeles. Dance instructor at LA Steps Dance Studio. Studied at Seoul University. Married to Seokhwa Kang.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Married. That’s new. So they’re married now, rings and vows exchanged. Married since June, Facebook tells him, complete with a wedding photo. Seokhwa looks so smart in his suit, ecstatically joyful. Donghan can’t look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have a child, too. At first, Donghan is sure he’s misunderstanding the spritely girl with her short little pigtails and her fat little cheeks, but then he scrolls back, back, </span>
  <em>
    <span>back, </span>
  </em>
  <span>almost two years, to a little shrivel of a baby laying in a hospital crib. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“It’s been a very long road, and I know that this is only the very beginning, but she’s finally here, and meeting her has given me so much strength,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yohan has captioned it, uncharacteristically serious. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Welcome to the world, Kim Haseul.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan doesn’t even need to ask to know that she’s Yohan’s— her eyes, her mouth, she’s his spitting image, even just as a toddler. They must have hired a surrogate, which Donghan hears is expensive, which means they’re doing well for themselves. It’s a bitter pill to swallow, it gets knotted up in his chest. He wants to wish them all the worst, but then he remembers how much Yohan has always wanted kids, and it becomes </span>
  <em>
    <span>hard.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Yohan has sent another message: </span>
  <em>
    <span>I hate the way that we left things all those years ago, hyung. I’ll understand if you just ignore this, but I would feel so much better if we could see each other. Seokhwa feels the same way. I’d love to have a couple drinks together, just the three of us, if you’re willing.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan should delete the messages and pretend that he never saw them. If he can barely read Yohan’s name in print on his laptop screen, if he can’t bring himself to even take in Seokhwa’s smile, what makes him think that he can sit across from the two of them and hold a conversation?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, he closes the window and leaves Yohan on read.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan closes his laptop, takes a deep breath, tries to think about something else. His upcoming shift, not working as a JYP producer as he might have once hoped, but instead mopping the building’s floors and scrubbing the bathrooms. His pile of dirty laundry that he needs to do as soon as he gets home. His grandmother’s birthday, which is tomorrow— he can’t forget to call her, like he did last year.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But nothing works. Yohan and Seokhwa have gotten back in, spreading through his brain like dueling poisons and bringing tears to his eyes. It’s hard to say which hurts more, but why does it matter, when together they’re devastating?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers Yohan at ten years old, the chubby-cheeked and brace-faced new transfer student at his elementary school. Donghan might not have cared much about him - he didn’t care that much for his peers - except that Yohan had moved into his apartment complex and had provided a new target for the bullies that harassed Donghan at the bus stop. They’d tired of Donghan after all this time, and Yohan seemed to be the perfect cut of fresh meat; his expression was mellow and sweet and almost vacant, something like a puppy, or maybe a cow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers sitting on the bus stop bench, nose buried in a book, trying to remain invisible while Yohan took the piss a few yards away. They’d never hit, just mocked him, and Donghan was never quick enough or savvy enough to think of retorts until hours later, sitting in class. Yohan, on the other hand, surprised them all despite his dim-witted looks; when one of them had commented on the mess of wires and rubber bands across his teeth, Yohan had looked up in surprise and fired back without trying: “Are you making fun of me because my family is rich enough to afford dental care? Or because my parents love me enough to spend this kind of money on me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The bully had only lost a second, but it was enough— and in that second, Donghan had burst into laughter behind them, laughing so hard that he’d cried, and when the bus came for them, Yohan had stuck to Donghan instinctively with a self-satisfied grin. From that day, Donghan knew that Yohan was bold enough to protect him, and Yohan knew that Donghan was kind enough to laugh at whatever stupid ideas came out of his mouth, and in those unnerving elementary school days, that was all that either of them really wanted.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers weekends spent at Yohan’s house, all-you-can-eat pizza and trips to Lotte World and poolside birthday parties; Yohan remembers marveling that some kids really live this way. Yohan’s parents </span>
  <em>
    <span>did</span>
  </em>
  <span> have money, and since he was their only child, they could afford to love him fiercely. But Donghan never had much room for jealousy, because they loved </span>
  <em>
    <span>him</span>
  </em>
  <span> like he was one of their own, too. “Thanks for taking care of our Yohan. He’s really needed a friend, all this time, and I’m glad he found a good one,” he remembers Mrs. Kim saying to him warmly as he gathered his belongings to go home one night, and he remembers his mouth going too dry to respond.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan lived somewhere much different— in a cottage-style home with his grandmother, shoved into a single bedroom and a single </span>
  <em>
    <span>bed</span>
  </em>
  <span> with his younger brother. It was the best that his grandmother could do after his mother had left them there, and it went without saying that new clothes and toys were scarce, and things like restaurant food or shopping trips were a big luxury. He remembers being embarrassed to show Yohan where he lived, the barren bedroom without posters and toy boxes and video game systems, the sunken floorboards and the old, beaten-up Pokemon blanket that his brother still adored, crumpled up on the edge of his mattress. But Yohan had smiled that bright smile anyway and ignored all the things that Donghan didn’t want him to see: “Your grandmother seems so nice! And your little brother is really cute! No, I swear, I don’t mind hanging out here for the afternoon— oh, I brought my Nintendo DS! We can take turns playing!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers sleepovers as sacred things. Usually they’d go to Yohan’s house, where the walls were thicker; they’d stay up until the sun rose, writing songs that they’d daydream of playing in their someday-band (Yohan had a guitar, but just one); or playing video games until they felt like their eyes would bleed, and then they’d fall into bed and whisper in the dark, lamenting their school problems, making plans for the future. Other times, they’d stay at Donghan’s house, and let his brother have the bed to himself while they slept on the living room futon, watching late-night TV with the volume muted and subtitles on. (Donghan has never told anyone this before, but the first time he admitted his sexuality to himself was on one of these nights; perhaps thirteen years old, dozing to the grim light of some low-budget horror movie while Yohan lay nearby with an arm draped over him. It’s funny, because he and Yohan have never had a real romantic connection, but Yohan was most definitely his first crush, all those years ago.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers the first day of their senior year, when Yohan showed up to school without his braces for the first time. He hadn’t thought that their absence would change Yohan’s face much, but it changed </span>
  <em>
    <span>everything. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Suddenly, he had the cuteness to back up his charm, and it made people take notice of him, particularly women. He started going on dates, had his first kiss (which he texted Donghan about just after it happened); he made lots of platonic friends, too, but he always invited Donghan and would discard the new friends that didn’t treat Donghan with respect.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was to Yohan that Donghan would eventually confide his sexuality, at seventeen years old. They were doing homework together. Well, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Donghan </span>
  </em>
  <span>was doing homework, and Yohan was alternating between texting his new girlfriend Eunbi and describing their amazing first date, shopping and ice cream and a peck on the cheek when he walked her home. Donghan had tried to listen, but all he could think of was the school sports festival the week before when he’d been checking out the boy he’d liked all year and lamenting about never being able to tell anyone, even his best friend— and almost without thinking, he’d nearly cut off the end of Yohan’s sentence with his </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I need to tell you something”.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers being terrified of crying, and he </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> cried, but Yohan hadn’t faltered. He hadn’t hesitated. He’d stood up and grabbed Donghan by the shoulders, yanking him out of his chair at his grandmother’s cramped little table and hugging him so tightly— because Yohan had been raised with only love, and he only had love to give, and he couldn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>understand</span>
  </em>
  <span> why Donghan was so scared to tell him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re my best friend. Do you hear me? You’re my </span>
  <em>
    <span>best friend. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Nothing is ever going to change that.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Graduation came and went - Yohan and Donghan had gotten into the same university, and even though </span>
  <em>
    <span>lots</span>
  </em>
  <span> of Yohan’s friends were attending school nearby, it was Donghan that he’d asked to dorm with him. Donghan still remembered the exhilaration of having </span>
  <em>
    <span>all </span>
  </em>
  <span>their shit crammed into that tiny room, of Yohan throwing himself up onto the top bunk and flopping across Donghan after hauling in the last of the suitcases.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m so tired! Can I sleep here with you tonight? I’m so nervous for my morning class— I’m worried I won’t be able to sleep on my own.” Yohan had pouted and wiggled against him, making those big sparkly eyes that could get him anything, and Donghan had laughed and smacked him with his pillow but couldn’t say no.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I hope university is better.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? High school wasn’t all that bad,” Donghan had asked, fingers carding through Yohan’s hair. It had always calmed him. Calmed Donghan, that is. Yohan had the softest hair.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I just… y’know. Better isn’t a bad aspiration, is it?” Yohan had chuckled into his neck, his exhale tickling. “I hope you meet someone, Donghan. You deserve a guy. You </span>
  <em>
    <span>really</span>
  </em>
  <span> deserve a guy.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine by myself!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Doesn’t matter.” Yohan had answered stubbornly, sighing as he stretched out and threw one leg over Donghan. “You have four years to meet a nice guy, so I can marry Eunbi after we graduate and I don’t need to worry about you wasting away by yourself.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It takes Donghan a moment to conjure her name… that’s right, it’s Eunbi, Park Eunbi. It’s been a long time since he’s thought about her. She and Yohan broke up as sophomores, and after that, </span>
  <em>
    <span>after that— </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers Seokhwa as he first saw him, standing in the practice room window, awash with sunlight. He looks angelic, eyes glowing, smile sweet— no, looked, </span>
  <em>
    <span>looked, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but it’s been nine years and Donghan remembers him like that, anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan had been a second-year music student, and he’d only agreed to be the accompanist for freshman vocal recitals as extra credit. It had been mostly the same songs, mostly </span>
  <em>
    <span>easy </span>
  </em>
  <span>songs, and Seokhwa's was no exception— but his voice was so smooth and warm and </span>
  <em>
    <span>full </span>
  </em>
  <span>in contrast with his cherub face, it had given Donghan chills. Donghan had found himself staring, and Seokhwa had caught his eyes and smiled, subtle and shy. What right did someone so lovely have to feel shy?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan had still been thinking about Seokhwa after the last rehearsal, when he grabbed his bag and left the music room, and he’d stopped in his tracks when he’d turned the corner into the building lobby to find Seokhwa waiting by the door, eyes and thumbs busy on his phone. He’d looked up quickly, though, as though he’d been waiting for this moment, and the thought made Donghan’s stomach do backflips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi! Um— Kim Donghan, right? I’m sorry to bother you… do you have a minute?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s no bother. I have an hour before my next class— I was going to go get coffee.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Perfect. I’ll walk with you, if it’s okay.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers the panic of sitting across from Seokhwa in the campus cafe, watching him add entirely too much sugar to his coffee. Truthfully, the younger had admitted with a sheepish flush, he hadn’t been able to think of a good reason to stop Donghan, as much as he’d wanted to. He’d just wanted to </span>
  <em>
    <span>talk— </span>
  </em>
  <span>first asking for feedback on his rehearsal and song choice, then Donghan mentioning his production work and pulling out his earbuds at Seokhwa’s request to give him a sneak peek. Seokhwa was into classical music, Donghan preferred hip-hop, but there was something enthralling about the dissonance. Seokhwa wasn’t the type of guy who would ever go for someone like Donghan, and yet when their eyes met, he looked away and blushed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next month, Donghan had run on anxiety and endorphins, second-guessing every step in the blossoming of his first relationship. He remembers Yohan dressing him for his first date, slicking Donghan’s hair back for him and letting him borrow his leather jacket; he remembers returning home that night </span>
  <em>
    <span>buzzing </span>
  </em>
  <span>with adrenaline from his first kiss, squeezing Yohan so hard that his roommate complained that he’d bruise his ribs.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers Seokhwa’s lips more vividly than anything. They’d gotten a discreet little table in a local coffee shop, watching some indie group performing on the tiny stage, just a man and a woman singing with a guitar. The ambience was wonderful, and the lighting was ethereal, the warmth had him feeling romantic. Donghan had felt silly and uncertain, telling Seokhwa how handsome he’d looked, how happy he was to be there with him, and Seokhwa had only smiled that deceptively shy smile as he boldly leaned in to steal his first kiss right off his lips.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>To this day, Donghan can’t think of anything more romantic than the taste of espresso. Sometimes, all it takes is a sip to sour his mood, and he wonders how many lattes he’s dumped out, still hot.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers bringing Seokhwa home for the first time, showing him around the apartment, introducing him to Lucy, the kitten that Yohan had brought home at the beginning of the term. Yohan had been gone to class, and of course Donghan had brought Seokhwa there with </span>
  <em>
    <span>specific motives; </span>
  </em>
  <span>in fact, they’d been making out on the couch, Seokhwa straddling Donghan’s lap and Donghan feeling his way up Seokhwa’s thighs, when the apartment door flew open and they just about </span>
  <em>
    <span>flew </span>
  </em>
  <span>apart. Not fast enough, though: Yohan had been bewildered, and had stared at Seokhwa for a solid two seconds of silence before he burst into laughter.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What, don’t let </span>
  <em>
    <span>me</span>
  </em>
  <span> interrupt! I’m just going to take off my shoes, and then I’ll go to my room and leave the two of you to your business!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rightfully, they’d both been mortified, and though Seokhwa was no less affectionate, he </span>
  <em>
    <span>was </span>
  </em>
  <span>quiet for quite some time afterwards. Seeing Yohan seemed to knock the words out of him. When Donghan had questioned, though, he’d only laughed. “Just startled, that’s all. Just thinking about how we should go to </span>
  <em>
    <span>my </span>
  </em>
  <span>place next time. I live alone, you know.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers their first time </span>
  <em>
    <span>(his </span>
  </em>
  <span>first time, though not Seokhwa’s), tangled together on the younger’s bed in his solely inhabited studio apartment. He remembers this fondly, as much as he doesn’t want to— the sting of nails scrambling against his back, the sweat dripping off his hair, Seokhwa’s voice growing hoarse in his ear. He’d been loud and enthusiastic, which made the surprise catch Donghan all the harder when he’d curled up against him after and started to cry. It was nothing he’d done wrong, Seokhwa promised him, he just got emotional after good sex. Then he’d clung to Donghan like a koala bear, breathed a deeply contented sigh, and murmured a barely audible </span>
  <em>
    <span>I love you</span>
  </em>
  <span> into his chest.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers the way that feeling stuck with him for days. He felt like a superhero. Even Yohan had pointed out that he was glowing, though Donghan had chosen not to tell Yohan about losing his virginity. (Was he supposed to? Yohan had consulted him the morning after losing his own, but for some reason, it felt too </span>
  <em>
    <span>personal</span>
  </em>
  <span> in the other direction. The memory of Seokhwa crying in his arms after, Donghan wanted that all to himself.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers applauding like crazy at Seokhwa’s freshman vocal recital, earning the ire of the teacher and a big kiss in front of everyone once they reunite in the hallway by the auditorium. Buying Seokhwa an extravagant bouquet and posing for a selca with it afterwards, their cheeks pressed sweetly together.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers a spontaneous weekend rendezvous between sophomore and junior year, eating gourmet food in a restaurant they could barely afford, dressing themselves up and going to the theater, staying in a nice hotel just for the hell of it and fucking like rabbits in a bed that they joked was big enough for an orgy. He remembers falling asleep in absolute comfort, with Seokhwa’s arms wrapped around his middle, and waking up to the sight of the younger drooling on his pillow.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers getting ecstatically drunk on the roof of Seokhwa’s dorm building, sitting between his boyfriend and his best friend, and laughing all night at absolutely nothing. Donghan’s life had seemed so vast back then, so open-ended, so hopeful, so </span>
  <em>
    <span>unexpectedly </span>
  </em>
  <span>wonderful after its difficult beginning. All he needed was to finish school, he remembered thinking, and everything would fall into place after that. He and Seokhwa would find jobs, buy a house, pick out a puppy together, and everything after that would be perfect by default.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s all sweet, but gives Donghan a throbbing stomachache in hindsight. It’s all sweet like a mouthful of antifreeze.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Sharpest of all is the memory Donghan wishes he could erase.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers Seokhwa’s hands shaking. Seokhwa’s hands always shake when he’s nervous (Donghan assumes they still do) and holding them is usually enough to calm him down. They were at Yohan and Donghan’s apartment for the evening, and Seokhwa hadn’t been himself at all. Too quiet, too spaced out, eyes focused somewhere out the window. Donghan remembers asking Seokhwa no less than three times if he was feeling okay, remembers the sinking feeling in his stomach when he realized that Seokhwa wasn’t looking at him when he said yes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers Yohan being uncomfortably busy that day, bustling around the apartment in a very un-Yohan-like way to clean up messes and organize belongings. Donghan hadn’t thought much of it. Seokhwa had been wanting to get out of the dorms for his upcoming third year of school, and the idea of moving in with Yohan and Donghan had been prodded. Nothing was set in stone, but yeah, the place would need to be cleaned before they even </span>
  <em>
    <span>thought about— </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yohan-hyung,” Donghan remembers Seokhwa’s voice here, hoarse and choked, perhaps afraid in hindsight. “Can you come here so we can talk with Donghan? The three of us?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That had felt strange. Yohan and Seokhwa were friends, but never before had he pictured the two seeking out a private conversation without Donghan sitting in the middle of it. Had they been discussing their living arrangements, themselves? Donghan had only brought it up once in passing, he found it hard to imagine, but maybe— </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers Yohan looking paler than ever, those beautifully expressive eyes of his wide and gleaming as he’d sat in the chair across from them. He’d been unable to stop licking his lips, a nervous tic that reared its head whenever he was anxious.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know how to say this.” He remembers jumping a little when Seokhwa spoke up from beside him, arms wrapping around Donghan like he was about to scoot closer and slide into his lap and bury his face in his neck— but he hadn’t done any of that, he’d been so tense that he’d just held Donghan’s waist with his shaking hands and squeezed. “Donghan-hyung, I’m so sorry. I don’t want to lie to you anymore.” He’d let out a little hiccup, the certain beginning of tears, but Donghan had been looking at Yohan looking at his fidgeting hands as Seokhwa confessed, “I’m in love with someone else.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers Yohan flinching. Donghan remembers wanting to barf.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean? Why are you telling me this </span>
  <em>
    <span>now?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Donghan had demanded, with a humiliating quiver to his voice. “Why— </span>
  <em>
    <span>why—” Why is Yohan here for this? </span>
  </em>
  <span>But the answer had already been spelled out for him, he didn’t need to ask.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I think you and I have a lot in common, </span>
  <em>
    <span>platonically, </span>
  </em>
  <span>but— Yohan-hyung and I have felt something different between us for awhile now. And I wanted to ignore it, because you don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve to get hurt—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It doesn’t matter. Donghan feels like he’s known nothing but hurt, and every victory after this moment tastes faintly of this betrayal. He’ll never trust another boyfriend again, though he has no way of knowing it in the moment; he’ll never kiss someone else without comparing it to that first time with Seokhwa, he’ll never enjoy the blissed out afterglow of sex without picturing his first love crying against his chest, he’ll never lay in bed with another man and whisper fairy-tale plans about </span>
  <em>
    <span>forever.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“What do you mean, </span>
  <em>
    <span>you and Yohan have something different?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Donghan’s voice was embarrassingly unsteady. In his own recollection, he sounds crazy. He wonders how they remember it. “Is this a joke? This has to be—”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers the absolute frustration of Yohan refusing to meet his eyes. He remembers grabbing Yohan’s shirt with one hand and his jaw with the other, and he remembers the speed with which Seokhwa grabs his arm, the panic with which he pleads for Donghan to calm down.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Yohan, you’re not even </span>
  <em>
    <span>gay.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>“I— I know, it’s just—” Yohan had blinked back tears. Donghan remembers wanting to reel back and punch him, but not being able to bring himself to it because Yohan looked so </span>
  <em>
    <span>genuinely </span>
  </em>
  <span>sad. “It’s just </span>
  <em>
    <span>different, </span>
  </em>
  <span>and I can’t explain it any better than that. We talked for a long time about whether or not to pursue this— in the end, we decided that it wasn’t fair to keep lying to you. I know you’re pissed, and you have every right to be pissed, but— we’re only being honest with you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They </span>
  <em>
    <span>had</span>
  </em>
  <span> been honest, gravely honest. Donghan and Seokhwa had been together for about a year and a half, and when he demanded it, they divulged that they’d been battling feelings for each other almost since the beginning. “But we didn’t talk to each other about it until maybe… four months ago?” Seokhwa answered every question warily, seeming nervous that Donghan might lash out again, but he was determined to keep himself together and get every painful answer. Yes, they’d kissed, but they were tight-lipped about who had first kissed who. They didn’t want Donghan to assign blame to one of them over the other, they claimed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yes, they’d had sex. Just once, Seokhwa had added meekly, as though that were supposed to mean anything. And they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>sorry. </span>
  </em>
  <span>That had been wrong, they agreed, as though any of it had been </span>
  <em>
    <span>right.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan had left that night, returning to his grandmother’s apartment for his first overnight visit in three years of living alone. His little brother was still living at home, and so he’d lay awake on the living room couch, unable to sleep. He hadn’t gathered the nerve to tell his grandmother that the boyfriend she hadn’t known about and the best friend that he’d had for half of his life had betrayed him for each other, and so he’d given homesickness as his weak-ass excuse, but he knew that he’d need to get his own place quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>In the end, though, Yohan had been the one to move out. He didn’t say anything about his plans, but Donghan heard from their friend Junseo that he and Seokhwa were moving into a one-bedroom place on the river, which Yohan’s father was paying for. He was out within a week of announcing it, taking all his personal affects and leaving a perfectly empty bedroom that still vibrated with their lingering memories.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Rent went up. Donghan took a semester off school and put all his musical projects aside while he picked up more hours at work. Even if he’d magically been able to pay Yohan’s half of the rent without working any harder, he didn’t think he would have had the drive to pay attention in his classes. There wasn’t much that he </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>do in those dizzying months; Donghan </span>
  <em>
    <span>barely </span>
  </em>
  <span>remembered the endless strings of doing nothing but working and sleeping, returning home from waiting tables to pass out without even eating. Sometimes he’d get drunk, but the taste of soju always made him think of all the nights drinking with Yohan— he’d have to drink </span>
  <em>
    <span>fast</span>
  </em>
  <span> to avoid crying, to make it straight from tipsy to black-out while skipping the sentimental bits.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers seeing Yohan a few times, on neutral ground, at restaurants or coffee shops, once on campus, which only served to remind Donghan what a failure he was. They’d tried to force their relationship for a little while, to salvage the friendship they’d been fostering since middle school, and it was a nice thought but it simply wasn’t possible when Donghan knew Yohan was going home to everything he’d ever wanted. Donghan remembers asking how Seokhwa was, just for the sake of politeness, and he’ll </span>
  <em>
    <span>never</span>
  </em>
  <span> forget the way Yohan’s eyes had lit up at the very sound of his beloved’s name. “He’s doing fine,” he’d answered simply, telling Donghan everything he’d needed to know without saying a word of it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They were still heart-achingly in love. Donghan doesn’t need to remember, because it’s all there on Seokhwa’s Instagram, when he scrolls back years and years. Yohan and Seokhwa laying in bed, bare-faced but sparkling, the little gray kitten curled up between their chests. Seokhwa grinning and throwing a V-sign next to a gray-faced Yohan after getting off of a roller coaster together at Lotte World. Yohan asleep across </span>
  <em>
    <span>their </span>
  </em>
  <span>bed, his music theory textbook still open on his chest and his mouth hanging open in an ugly snore. There are still pictures of Seokhwa and Donghan, too, Seokhwa hasn't deleted any of them— but he barely recognizes himself in those photos. It feels like a lifetime ago that he’d put his arm around Seokhwa's shoulders and held him close.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan remembers trying not to be bitter, but part of him hoped that Seokhwa would meet someone new and leave Yohan just as easily as he’d left Donghan. For about a year, he held onto that private, petty hope, </span>
  <em>
    <span>so </span>
  </em>
  <span>close to his heart and away from prying eyes— until he snuck a peek at Seokhwa’s Instagram and saw a sunset-lit photograph of LA’s Hollywood Hills sign. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“New home sweet home! Everyone please wish @yohannie922 luck as a UC Berkeley grad student! I’m so proud of my love </span>
  </em>
  <span>😘”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>After that, Donghan figured, there was really no sense to holding onto hope. What did it really matter what happened to them, anyway?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan goes back and forth on standing them up, but he can’t bring himself to. In the end, he decides to find out when they’re having dinner with the group, all their mutual friends from the university music department. That’s probably the only way that it won’t be awkward.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Kim Donghan: Hi! My schedule is a little tight these days, but tell me when you all decide to have dinner. I will make it if I can.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the best he can do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth is, while Donghan wants to blame either of them or both of them for the way his life has turned out, he knows that only makes himself look even more pathetic. Any normal person would have been able to pick up the scattered pieces of their life off the floor— any normal person would have moved on, but Donghan feels like he’s irrevocably lost something. 95% of his life goes on like normal, except music now feels empty. Random songs, even brand-new songs, inexplicably make him think of Seokhwa and make him cry. Dating has been a drag; he’s been with his current boyfriend Yongha for the better part of a year, now, but he knows that he’s not an easy guy to date with all the blemishes that Seokhwa has left on his heart. He’s a little reserved, a little cold, and he hopes that Yongha understands when he tells him that he doesn’t mean to be. (He’s also called Yongha Yohan by mistake more than a few times, to the point that he’s conceded and told Yongha about his childhood best friend. Better than letting Yongha think he’s being cheated on— Donghan knows what a gut-punch </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span> is.)</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Still, he responds to Yongha’s invite to spend the night by telling him that he’s got plans with an old friend that night. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ll text you after, I’ll come see you if it’s not too late,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>he promises, though he’s not sure if that’s exactly true.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan arrives at the restaurant early and spends fifteen minutes sitting in his car, having a panic attack. He doesn’t need a psychologist to tell him why he’s doing this, either, that’s the worst part— he’s hoping that part of it, even a </span>
  <em>
    <span>second </span>
  </em>
  <span>of it, will feel like old times. Maybe Seokhwa will take one look at him and remember all the things that he once thought he loved about him. Maybe Yohan will hug him hello, just like he always used to, and put his heart at ease for a moment.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he goes inside, it doesn’t take him long to spot them. They’ve reserved one of the bigger tables inside the simple little family-style restaurant, and Junseo is already sitting there with them, fawning over the little pink bundle that is their daughter. By this point, Donghan has spent so much time looking at Haseul’s little face, he can see the striking resemblance to Yohan even at this distance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He wonders if she’ll have her dad’s wit. That deceptively dim expression Yohan always wore, and the way he would subtly smirk whenever someone underestimated it. He wonders if Seokhwa adores it as much as Donghan always did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Yohan is a hard person not to fall in love with. So is Seokhwa. The realization washes over him in a wave, like a sickness as he stands there off to the side, watching them and just </span>
  <em>
    <span>thinking.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokhwa glances over at long last, as though he can sense him, and he seems to think about waving, but hesitates with his hand half-raised. Donghan hesitates, too. Perhaps neither of them are ready.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Seokhwa lowers his hand. Donghan turns on his heels and walks out.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>//</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Donghan goes to Yongha’s apartment afterwards, offering no explanation for being so early, and they eat takeout together in front of the TV. Yongha mentions that Donghan is quiet. Donghan forces a yawn and says that he’s tired from work. Yongha gives his thigh a squeeze and asks him, “How tired?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>They have sex, though Donghan isn’t feeling much enthusiasm for the task. It takes Yongha some extra care and love to get him ready, and in the end, Donghan is thankful that they still use condoms; it makes Yongha less likely to notice that Donghan hasn’t actually cum inside him, he’s only made a sound and a face that he hopes is convincing. Afterwards, they’re quiet, and Donghan isn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>unhappy </span>
  </em>
  <span>but he’s not </span>
  <em>
    <span>happy </span>
  </em>
  <span>either, even with Yongha trailing affectionate kisses across his chest, </span>
  <em>
    <span>just because.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <span>His mind is with Seokhwa, ten years ago, doing the same thing. His mind is with Yohan, right this moment, hoping selfishly that having a baby has turned their sex life to shit.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you,” Yongha whispers into the darkness. It’s a new thing between them, and instinctively it makes Donghan’s heart race, but he doesn’t quite feel it, the sensation doesn’t quite reach his brain. He’s somewhere else, back in time, and it takes him half a second of silence to fill Yongha’s arms back in.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, babe.” He smiles when he says it, he gives Yongha a long kiss, and he hopes he means it.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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